


Don't look behind

by BlueTee



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Divorce, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Family Issues, Reverb 2020, divorce themes, reverb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTee/pseuds/BlueTee
Summary: Some people would think that, after living together for seven years and resonating on a regular basis, there would be no more secrets between Soul and Maka. Well, that was not the case. There are many things you can’t pry out of someone’s soul: it has to be earned. How your parents hurt each other and actively pushed you away was one of those things.Sometimes, it takes a box of old photos, milkshakes and the comforting presence of the one person who knows almost everything about you to make you share your old wounds.For Soul Eater Chibi Reverse Resonance Bang 2020.
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Spirit Albarn | Death Scythe/Kami
Comments: 15
Kudos: 151
Collections: Chibi! Reverse Resonance Bang 2020





	Don't look behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilliTheFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilliTheFangirl/gifts).



> Hello, this is my first Reverb and my amazing artist partner was the adorable [ Lili,](https://lilliesofinspirationvalley.tumblr.com/) so don't forget to check her art [ here!](https://art-from-lillies-valley.tumblr.com/post/620845771408932865/ta-da-me-and-infantbluee-are-kicking-of-this)
> 
> Are you ready for Soul and Maka discussing the Albarn's family drama?
> 
> Enjoy!

He had seen it coming.

At the age of twenty, Soul Evans had been Maka Albarn's partner for seven years now, and her roommate for almost as long. His meister, he quickly learned, was a methodical person. A creature of habit, for lack of better words. For all of his laid-back attitude, Soul wasn’t stupid or inattentive. By the second year living with her, Soul had a good notion of some of her habits.

By the third year, he already knew Maka’s birthday was a situation to tread carefully.

Since he was her loyal weapon and best friend (and more recently, the idiot in love, doing his best to defuse a men-hating bomb), Soul started the preparations to the upcoming dreadful event one week earlier. It was a ritual he had developed through the years, which Maka pretended not to notice. He would gradually start to do more of the chores, especially the ones Maka hated (cleaning the bathroom and ironing the clothes). He would avoid all his habits that annoyed her – such as playing the piano late at night, or leaving his stuff all around the apartment. Finally, Soul would make sure that her favorite comfort foods were always well stocked on their cabinets and fridge – white chocolate, strawberries, chilly Doritos, and fudge and caramel ice-cream.

Yes, Maka Albarn’s birthday was always an ordeal.

It wasn’t like she hated the date. She didn’t make a big fuss about it, or demanded to be treated as a princess (like Liz), or pressured Kid to make it a Death City’s official holiday (like Black*Star insisted every year). No, level-headed Maka treated her birthday with reasonable enthusiasm. She liked receiving gifts, and had a genuine smile for everyone who congratulated her; she went along with whatever celebration Tsubaki would come up with. Even her father would be treated with more patience than usual, while he spent the day crying about how much his baby had grown up. Late at night, a call from her mother would officially put an end to the day, and she would go to sleep with a soft smile on her lips.

The problem was not her birthday: it was the week that preceded it.

Like a clock, one week before the date Soul would start to notice the first signs of distress: a longing, hurtful look in her eyes, that would disappear as soon as she noticed he was paying attention (he gave up asking her about it in their second year as partners). There was also the long periods of silence, or the short outburst of rage. Three days into the week, she would start to lose herself in her favorite book, reading it over and over again. At the eve of her birthday, he would wake up in the middle of the night with her weight crawling under his covers, and he would say nothing while she cuddled at his side to sleep.

By the fourth year as her weapon, he would not sleep at all, anxiously waiting for her to come into his room. But since he was a special kind of idiot, it would take another year for him to understand exactly  _ why. _

In the morning, they wouldn’t talk about why her birthday made her seek his comforting presence. They would try not to think that she only did that in the nights where the madness coming from the Black Moon was too much even for her. They would not mention that she developed that habit after their battle against the Kishin, because of her nightmares. Soul would only wish her a happy birthday, give her his gift, and retreat to the kitchen to make her favorite pancakes. She would only join him in the kitchen after she had already prepared herself for the attention of the day. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.

(And that next day, if she would cook his favorite fish for dinner, or sit by his side while he played the piano for hours as a silent thank you, they wouldn’t talk about that either).

(Maybe she was also a special kind of idiot).

So, when Soul arrived home three days before her birthday with a recycling bag full of white chocolate and strawberries, and found his partner so absorbed with whatever she was doing on their coffee table that she didn’t even notice him, yes, he had seen it coming. And he had prepared for it.

Blair was still their roommate, who was always happy to help him with his preparations for Maka’s birthday. That meant that the cat would avoid wreaking havoc in the house and drinking all their milk, which honestly helped a lot. If he could convince her to stop giving Maka obscene lingerie every year, it would be perfect.

For now, he only let out a relieved sigh after opening the fridge and checking that the milk carton was still there. He quickly washed and cut the strawberries, and threw them in the blender with the milk and the rest of their vanilla ice-cream. He poured the milkshake in two glasses, and added tiny pieces of strawberry and white chocolate chips at the top of one of them, just like Maka liked. 

He made his way back to the living room and sat by her side on the floor. Not too close, though: it was always better to give her more space when she was feeling antsy.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice, to make sure he wouldn’t startle her.

Maka accepted her milkshake with a ‘thank you’ and a small smile. The longing look was back to her eyes, and he avoided her gaze, knowing she wouldn’t like him staring.

“I was cleaning my wardrobe and found a box with some old photos. I’m trying to sort it into the right albums.”

His meister was a shitty liar on the regular, but in the week before her birthday she became a truly terrible one. There were a few albums on their coffee table, and a bunch of photos scattered on the surface, but he doubted she had found them in a forgotten box. Some of the photos were crumpled and worm out in the edges, probably from being handled too many times.

He wasn’t about to give her a hard time for it, though.

“Want some help?” it was all he asked. She shrugged in response, and took the first sip of her milkshake. Her smile immediately grew, enough for him to see her dimple, and he mentally cheered.

Soul picked the photo that seemed more worm out. He was conscious of Maka following his movements, but she didn’t try to stop him, still silently drinking her milkshake.

“Ah,” he let out.

There was no mistake about the people in the photo. Spirit was younger than he had ever seen in previous pictures. He knew Maka was born when he was eighteen – because Spirit was  _ another _ special kind of stupid altogether - but in this he was even younger, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Kumiko Kami, better known as Maka’s mom, was probably around the same age. The photo was taken by surprise: they were in the front steps of Shibusen, and staring at each other instead of the camera. Spirit had a stupid smile and his hands were up in the air, defensively, and his messy hair seemed fairer than Soul was used too: it was almost strawberry blonde instead of red. Kumiko was wearing one of Shibusen’s uniforms, her caramel hair in a ponytail, and her arms crossed firmly in front of her chest. Her mouth was half-open, as if the photograph had caught her mid-sentence.

“It was taken on the day they became partners,” Maka calmly explained. He didn’t dare look at her. “Professor Marie was the one who took it, while they were arguing. He was sixteen, and she was fifteen.”

The fact they had the same age gap as him and Maka was not lost to Soul. “Why were they arguing?”

“They were always arguing,” she rolled her eyes. “According to professor Marie, mom’s favorite topic of discussion was giving him a hard time for not noticing that professor Stein was doing experiments with his body.”

“That’s a very good reason to be mad with him,” Soul conceded. “How could he not notice that?”

“Hmm,” it was all she answered. Maka let her glass on the floor between them, and extended her hand to him. Soul couldn’t help but notice the blank expression on her face when her fingers touched the old photo.

* * *

“ _ How could he not notice that?” _

_ Ten-year-old Maka was smart. Mama always said that Maka was the smartest, most brilliant ten-year-old she ever knew. For that reason, Maka liked to ask the right questions, to make her mama proud. _

“ _ How could he not notice that his old meister was hurting him?” _

_ Maka didn’t know Papa had had a meister before mama, much less that he used to hurt Papa while he was asleep. Whoever he was, he was probably a bad person. _

_ Her mother made a small pause, maybe surprised that her daughter had heard she mumbling to herself while putting away the dinner her papa hadn’t eaten, because he wasn’t at home yet. _

_ Again. _

_ "Oh, I didn’t see you there, dear,” Mama said, her back once again turned to Maka. She continued to do the dishes as if nothing had happened. “What did you hear?” _

_ “Just you saying that ‘should never have changed partners, I should have let that crazy psycho open him while he was asleep; the idiot would never have realized anyway’” Maka faithfully repeated, word by word. Mama was still quiet, so she pushed: “Who was the crazy psycho, mama?” _

_ Taking a deep breath, she finally turned around and kneeled in front of Maka, gently patting her hair. _

_ “He’s no one you should concern yourself about, dear. I doubt you will meet him anytime soon.” _

_ “But what did he do to papa?” she asked. _

_ Mama had just opened her mouth to answer when their front door suddenly crashed against the wall. Papa threw his trembling body on the nearest couch, completely forgetting to shut the door. He had a stupid smile on his lips, and all his body was reeking at alcohol and cheap perfume. _

_ At that moment, Maka knew she would never forget the hurt look in Kumiko’s eyes when she answered, low and coldly: _

_ “Nothing that he didn’t deserve.” _

* * *

Soul blinked a few times, processing the memory Maka had shared.

“Ok, that’s… That’s fucked up,” he said, not caring at all about dropping f bombs. He didn’t know what was worse about that situation: what Spirit had done, or what Kami had said to their daughter. “I mean, I know your dad cheated a lot on your mom, but what she said to you was…”

“I know,” Maka interrupted. She returned the photo to the pile on the table, and took another sip of her milkshake. “I can see now that what Mama did was equally bad. She apologized for what she had said later that night, after she finished beating the living crap out of papa, but you know; the damage was done. I think that was when I started pushing papa away.”

It was a lot to process. Maka had never openly talked about her family like that, and Soul was uncertain about how much he should comment on the topic. Some people would think that, after living together for seven years and resonating on a regular basis, there would be no more secrets between them. Well, that was not the case. There are many things you can’t pry out of someone’s soul: it has to be earned.

How your parents hurt each other and actively pushed you away was one of those things.

“Your dad was a douche and he deserved all the ass beating he got from your mom,” he started, slowly, his eyes focused on her face, watching for any sign of distress. “But that was between them: your mom should not have alienated you from him like she did.”

Maka made a noise of agreement, her eyes distant once again. Soul waited, patiently, for whatever she wanted to share next.

“I think… I think she resented him, you know. For getting her pregnant when she was seventeen.” 

Soul was glad he wasn’t holding his glass, because he was sure there would be milkshake staining his clothes and the floor right now. His hands were shaking so much he couldn’t even feel his fingers. It took him awhile to realize that that feeling was  _ outrage _ . 

“But that is just worse!” he exclaimed – almost screamed – throwing his hands to the air. The idea that Kumiko somehow regretted giving birth to Maka was… unthinkable. A world where Maka didn’t exist was unthinkable. “It takes two people to make a baby! She can’t blame your father like that!”

Surprised by his reaction, Maka snapped out of her numb state, and giggled a little.

“Are you… Are you defending Papa?”

After all, it was no secret as the years went by, Spirit had become more and more transfixed on the idea that Soul was a ruffian getting ready to deflower his precious baby daughter. In response, Soul had made a habit of annoying the older Death Scythe at any given chance. Their antagonizing shenanigans both exasperated and amused Maka. 

Yet, right now, Soul was too pissed to care for the blushing on his cheeks.

“Well, I would feel worse teaming up with your mom!”

Maka just shook her head in response, and started to sort through the pile. 

“I know what it looks like. It sounds really bad when I try to explain everything that happened with words, but…”

She paused, having found the photo she was looking for. It was almost as worm out as the previous one. Spirit seemed a little older on this one, and his hair was a beautiful copper color, but not scarlet yet. His face was a mess; he was crying copiously while he watched newborn Maka sleep on her mother’s arms. She had been a cute baby, pale with rosy cheeks, but there were no distinct features, as expected from her age. What really surprised Soul, however, was Kumiko.

She was glowing.

She had the most brilliant smile on her lips, but it was her eyes that got him. Tender, loving hazel eyes fixed on Maka, seeing nothing but Maka. A single tear was running down her cheek, but Soul doubted it even had crossed Kumiko’s mind to take one hand off the baby to wipe it. Nothing else in the universe existed but the bundle of joy in her arms.

“Mama loves me very much,” Maka said, and there was not a single trace of doubt in her voice _. _

* * *

_ “Mama loves Maka very much,” twenty-five years old Papa told her. She was sitting on his lap, her back against his chest, while they went through the old albums together. He was showing her the photo from her birth, the one a nurse had taken. “When Mama held Maka for the first time, she was so happy she was shining, do you see it?” _

_ Maka didn’t know what Papa meant by ‘shining’, but she liked that Mama was smiling. She smiled so rarely these days. _

_ “Why Mama is never at home, then?” she questioned. If Mama was happy living with Maka and Papa, then she should spend more time with them. “She already made you a Death Scythe, but she keeps accepting long missions.” _

_ Papa took a while to answer, gently combing his fingers through Maka’s hair. _

_ “What is your dream, Maka?” he questioned, surprising her. It was the first time he asked her something serious.  _

_ “I want to be like Mama!” was her answer. “I want to be a scythe meister, and make a strong Death Scythe, just like Papa!” _

_ “That’s amazing, sweetie,” he cheered, still playing with her hair. “That’s a very nice dream; I’m sure Maka is going to be the strongest meister Shibusen’s ever had!” _

_ “Stronger than Black*Star?” she immediately questioned.  _

_ Papa let out a boisterous laugh. “Yes, sweetie, stronger than Black*Star.” _

_ She was very satisfied with the answer, but she wouldn’t let him forget about her previous question. “What does that have to do with Mama?” _

_ Papa hummed, before passing some of the album’s pages, until they were back to the photos of their time on Shibusen.  _

_ “You see, sweetie, Mama also has dreams; a lot of dreams. And making a Death Scythe was only one of them.” _

_ “Really?” she was surprised. She had no idea what else her mother could want. As far as meisters went, she was already on the top. “Like what?” _

_ “Like traveling around the world,” he gently explained. “Your mama always wanted to get to know as many different cultures as possible. Some places have a different vision of Demon Weapons than us - some of them not so good. There is also her research on Grigori souls, the type of soul she has. She loves her research - that’s why Mama travels so much.”  _

_ “So, mama is happy when she is not here?” she asked. _

_ Papa’s hand stopped moving on her head. _

_ “Yes,” he answered after a long pause. “Yes, sweetie, mama is happy when she is traveling.” _

* * *

“I talked to her after you and I became partners,” Maka commented, still eyeing the photo from her birth. “About what being a meister meant to her. She said it was just one more step on the road of her dreams.”

“Sounds like your mom,” Soul said, mostly because he didn’t know what else he could do. Kumiko Kami had always been a mystery to him, even after so many years of partnership.

Maka hummed in agreement. “Mama would never be happy staying here, in Death City. I think… I think that even if Papa hadn’t screwed up, they would have ended up parting ways eventually. She was just not born to domesticity. I can’t blame her for that.”

Soul agreed that Kumiko was within her right to stay away, but he wished she would call Maka more. He suspected that it was because her birthday was the only day in the whole year when she was sure her mother would make contact that made Maka so stressed before that date.

Yet, he was not about to bring that up now.

Maka picked one of the oldest albums and carefully slid the photo back to its place. Soul observed from behind her shoulder, searching for any distraction from the previous topic.

“Hey, can I ask about your dad’s hair color?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? I inherited Papa’s hair, he was born blonde.” She pointed at some old photos in the album. “It gradually became red as long as he consumed souls. All sorts of changes like hair color or eyes can happen with demon weapons, especially after they eat a witch’s soul.”

“I guess I was lucky then,” he grinned. “I was born this good-looking.”

He thought she would just roll her eyes in response, but instead Maka tilted her head to the right, carefully analyzing him.

“Hmm, I don’t know, your growth spurt was just after you ate Arachne’s soul. Also, you’re pretty tan for someone who is an albino. I remember you being more pale when we met. I think your eyes got darker, too.”

Soul gasped.

“Well, I moved into a desert!” he exclaimed, making Maka laugh.

“Still, you were not supposed to get tan. Maybe you have the PK souls to thank for your alleged ‘good-looks’.”

“You’re killing me here, Maka,” he whined dramatically, hoping it would cover how close to home that affirmation actually hit.

_ That _ made her roll her eyes.

“I’m sure your fan-club will survive this harsh truth,” she dismissed and took another sip from her milkshake.

He couldn’t care less about what said ‘fan-club’ thought about him, and she knew that. It was probably the reason why Maka had a smug look on her face.

Such a cruel meister.

More to annoy her than of actual curiosity, he picked a photo with her, Black*Star and Kid.

“What about this one?”

She took a look and laughed at his choice. It was a real laugh, coming from the deep of her chest, and he felt his own tension lowering. It’s not the kind of sound Maka would let out three days before her birthday.

“That’s a good one,” she said kindly. “Papa found this one recently and gave it to me. I obviously don’t remember when it was taken, so it was a nice surprise.”

The photo seemed a little more conserved than the others on the table. Spirit probably kept it safely hidden on his own albums until he decided it was a good time for Maka to have it. She was still a baby, two year-old at best, but her thin hair was already parted in her famous twin-pigtails, and she was smiling at the camera, safely secured in Spirit’s arms. The Death Scythe had his infamous scarlet hair, and he had his ‘dumb papa’ face while facing his daughter. Kumiko was at this side, more relaxed than Soul had ever seen before, and she was the only person on the picture who seemed somehow composed for the photograph.

At her side, Lord Death seemed to be having trouble keeping a very young and distressed Kid perched on his shoulder. Considering the huge Christmas Tree behind them, Soul would bet that the lack of a pattern for the decorations had triggered his OCD – he seemed on the verge of tears. It was his first time seeing the Shinigami when he was a baby, and Soul would never confess that out loud, but Kid had been an adorable child. He was wearing a pantsuit with suspenders, a white dress-shirt and a red and green bow tie. The former Lord Death, however, was just like he remembered from his first years at Shibusen. He hadn’t changed at all.

Tall, brooding and obscenely uncomfortable, Stein stood at Spirit’s side frowning so much that he seemed older than he actually was now. Not that it was easy to tell his age in the first place, considering the gray air. Everything about his corporal language screamed that he would rather be literally anywhere but there, on that Christmas celebration, taking that picture. If Maka told him that he had fled after the photo was taken, he wouldn’t doubt for a second.

Finally, Sid – when he was still human – and Nygus – who Soul needed a minute to recognize since she wasn’t all wrapped in bandages for once – were fighting to hold baby-Black*Star still. His obnoxious blue hair was a stark contrast to the general green and red tones of the photo, and he was holding what could only be the star reserved for the top of the tree. He wouldn’t put pass his friend to have stole it in a jealousy fit – considering that Black*Star had been raised for some of the most humble people he knew, his megalomaniac ego was certainly a natural characteristic he had been born with.

“I didn’t know you knew Kid since you were a baby,” Soul commented, offering the photo to his meister. Maka shrugged.

“I had more contact when I was really young, I think, but I honestly don’t remember neither him or professor Stein while growing up. Papa said this picture was a special occasion: we never gathered like this after that time.”

“Why?”

“Life happened, I guess,” she answered, thoughtfully. “They probably never convinced professor Stein to leave his lab on a holiday again, Mama was traveling, Nygus and Sid went on missions... who knows.”

“Makes sense to me,” he commented, observing Maka carefully putting the photo on the plastic case of the oldest album. “As fun as Shibusen is, you guys never gave me the whole ‘happy, united family’ feeling, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I do,” she agreed, nodding. “With Mama frequently away and Papa being… well, Papa, I had very little contact with Shibusen’s staff while growing up.”

“But you knew Black*Star,” he affirmed. Soul remembered the easy camaraderie between the two meisters when Maka introduced him to the ninja, after they became partners.

“Yeah, but with Black*Star, it was different.” Maka turned to rest her back against their couch, extending her crumpling legs in his direction. He promptly put her feet on his lap, and started to massage one. She gave him a thankful smile and held her milkshake with both hands. “Black*Star was all over the place, you know? As far as I can remember, he was always there, being a pain in my butt.”

“He was your first friend,” he affirmed again. Soul tried to not be jealous: not over Black*Star, specifically, but over the childhood friendship they shared. The Death Scythe would never confess that, but Maka had been his first real friend, and he met her when he was already  _ thirteen. _

The perks of social anxiety.

Maka sighed, her smile a little hard on the edges, one of her brows trembling as when she was stressed. “Yes, Black*Star was my first friend.”

* * *

_ “Albarn, you are a disgrace. Are you sure you want to be a meister?” _

_ Ten-years-old Black*Star was strong. Stronger than any ten-years-old had the right to be. Her belly was hurting where he had delivered his punch, and Maka pretended not to listen, still lying on the ground to catch her breath. _

_ However, Black*Star didn’t like to be ignored. _

_ “Hey, pigtails, your God is preaching,” he squatted at her side, grinning like the ass he was. “You were the one who wanted to train with me, so get up. I’m not done with you.” _

_ She hated his smugness, hated to be looked down, literally AND figuratively. _

_ “I’m not done with you either!” she exclaimed, jumping up. _

_ Maka tried to hit him with the moves he had taught her earlier, but the irritating ninja dodge every single one, moving with precision and grace. It was infuriating to watch. He was still grinning, the bastard, and barely breaking a sweat while she was already out of breath again. _

_ Which, of course, he immediately noticed. _

_ “What did I tell you about your breathing, short stuff?” he paired her last blow, grabbing her fist and twisting her arm behind her back. He held her neck with the other hand and blocked her legs with his, immobilizing her completely. “You’re buffing like a bull, Maka.” _

_ “No, I ain’t!” she exclaimed, struggling to break free from his grasp. Without success. _

_ “Yes, you are. Any assassin could easily kill you with the amount of sound that is escaping your mouth and nose. What’s the point of asking for my divine advice, if you won’t listen to your God?” _

_ “You aren’t my God!” she barked, but Black*Star only laughed in response. _

_ “Well, I have you trapped, so like it or not, I’m your God now, Albarn.” Despite of what he just said, Black*Star let her go with a kick on her butt that made her stagger a few steps. _

_ He laughed at her struggles. _

_ “This isn’t fair,” Maka mumbled, massaging the skin of her wrist. “You aren’t much older than me, so how can you be so strong?” _

_ “I’m a God,” he shrugged, as if that explained everything. _

_ “You know you’re not a God, Black*Star. You are not a Shinigami.” _

_ “You’re right,” he nodded, crossing his arms. “I’m the man who is going to surpass God. I’m better than him.” _

_ “Stop that! I’m being serious!” Maka half-screamed, eyes welling up with tears. It was so unfair: she was always studying and training to become a meister as amazing as her mother, so then why? Why someone who never took anything serious like Black*Star could be stronger than her? _

_ He raised his eyebrows, any signs of amusement gone. _

_ “You want something serious, Albarn? I’ll be serious.” He took a step closer to her – they had the same height, but it was the same sensation from being stared at from above. “I’m stronger than you because I was born in a ninja clan, and because I train harder than you. While you’re reading your books, I’m training. While you’re having dinner with your family, or playing, or sleeping, I am training.” _

_ He poked her forehead with two fingers. _

_ “If you are so smart, then use your big brain to think, shortie.” _

_ “Stop giving me weird nicknames,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. Maka wasn’t used to being wrong, or used to feeling bad for Black*Star. He was always so confident and energetic, that sometimes it was easy to forget that he was practically alone in the world. _

_ Black*Star shook his head and watched the sleepy sun setting on the horizon. _

_ “If you understand, then go home. Your old man is going to annoy the hell out of me if I hold you here.” _

_ “What about you?” she asked. _

_ “I’m going to keep training, of course,” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if he wasn’t probably famished, tired and alone. _

_ “Do you want to come have dinner with us?” she blurted, before she lost her courage. _

_ That finally wiped the smugness from his face, and he widened his eyes, gasping. _

_ “What… are you sure?” _

_ “Yeah, it’s not a problem. Papa always cooks more than he should.” Which was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She could eat a smaller portion tonight. Or convince her Papa to order pizza. _

_ He tapped the ground, anxiously. _

_ “And… is your mom at home?” _

_ He would never admit that, but the infamous Black*Star was terribly afraid of Kumiko Albarn. Maka laughed. _

_ “No, she is still traveling.” _

_ “Oh, okay then,” he gulped, avoiding her eyes and blushing just a little. “Yeah, sure, I can bless you dinner with my amazing presence.” _

_ She could only roll her eyes at his shenanigans. _

_ “Come on, then,” she said, grabbing his hand firmly and pulling him behind her. _

* * *

“Under the risk of sounding terribly hypocritical, I must say that Black*Star was a difficult child,” Maka giggled and drank more of her milkshake.

Soul smiled in response, still massaging her feet.

“Yeah, I can picture that. But at least you guys had each other.”

She tilted her head a little, considering his words.

“I guess you’re right. I’m not proud to say that I blew up with him more than a few times when I was frustrated with Mama and Papa.”

“Which was all the time” Soul smartly added.

Maka nodded.

“Which was all the time,” she agreed.

The meister chugged the rest of her milkshake and let the glass rest on the hardwood floor. Her gaze fell upon the few photographs still on the table, most of them featuring her parents or baby her. She had the concentrated expression she made when she was almost grasping the answer for a difficult problem, so Soul waited in silence, not daring to interrupt her thoughts. Maka would share when, and if, she was ready.

And she did not disappoint.

Maka pulled her legs back, - and Soul made a conscientious effort to not pout because the loss of her skin – bracing them firmly against her chest, and rested her chin on her knees.

“I like to think that they were happy, you know?” she said, softly. The longing on her voice left no doubts about who ‘they’ were. “They were happy for most of the time they were together. Mama was too strong-minded to stay with Papa for so long if she was really miserable. They loved each other, they really did. But they were terrible at being together.”

“Their personalities were incompatible,” Soul offered.

“Hmm... That too,” Maka agreed with a small smile. “But it was a little more than that. I think the real problem was that they were too intense. When they were young, they loved each other with so much intensity – it was like a wildfire. They were really passionate about each other, me, their jobs… I don’t think they knew how to live any differently. And when they hurt each other… they hurt for real. If she had stayed, they would just keep hurting. So she had to leave, and focus her passion on her research and travels.”

“Leaving your father to focus on you,” Soul completed. There was no denying that Spirit was absolutely devoted to his only daughter, even if it was a little creepy sometimes.

“Yes,” it was all she said. With her cheek resting on her knees, Maka touched the remaining photos with the tip of her fingers, gently. “It is weird, isn’t it? To think that only love isn’t enough to make you and your partner happy?”

All alarms in Soul’s head went off like crazy – somehow, he was certain that this conversation wasn’t about her parents anymore.

Holy. Mother. Of. Kid.

“There are many kinds of love,” he forced the words out: his mouth was suddenly dry. Maka didn’t answer, didn’t move, and he desperately searched for something else to say. “If you love someone romantically but you’re not good friends with them, so what’s the point?”

She raised her big green eyes to him.

_ Oh. _

_ “ _ Is that what you think?” her voice was barely about a whisper, and there was a spark on her eyes that he couldn’t discern.

But he could feel his cheeks burning.

He was  _ so  _ screwed.

“I think that falling in love with your best friend must be the best thing, right?” he blurted.

And stopped breathing completely.

Maka’s answer was a big, wide smile.

“I think you’re right, Soul,” she said before getting up, with her empty glass in hand. “Let me take your glass back to the kitchen.”

“What?” he exclaimed, like an idiot. He blinked a few times, until he noticed that she was clearly holding back her laugh.

Such a cruel meister.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, scratching his nape and avoiding her eyes.

Which, of course, didn’t help at all, since Maka bent in front of him to pick his glass from the floor. She stopped, her nose a few inches from his, and suddenly he could count all the tiny freckles on her nose.

Warm, soft lips brushed gently against his, and Maka said “Thank you, Soul,” before quickly retreating to the kitchen.

It took his brain a few seconds to register what had just happened.

His cruel meister had stolen a kiss and then fled.

He had NOT seen that one coming.

_ “Maka Albarn, come back here right now, dammit!” _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm weak, I can't write Soul Eater fanfics without making it about Soul pining like an idiot for his meister.


End file.
